Fur and Fireworks

When we adopted Maddy two years ago, my wife and I noticed right away that she was scared often. She's a big dog, something like 85 pounds right now, so seeing her climb to the top of the back of the couch to try to hide from thunder or the boom of fireworks is cute and sad in a way that's hard to articulate. You know she has nothing to be scared about, but you'll never able to convince her. You just have to sit with her while she shivers.

Last year, in an attempt to teach Maddy how to be a better social dog, we added another dog to the family. Melody is boisterous and playful and not afraid of much of anything, except for getting in trouble with us. When we first got her, she would run away every single chance she got. She also broke out of her crate more than once, ripped up some carpet in one of our rooms, and even chased a neighborhood dog around its own yard when she slipped out of her harness.

Today, we added a third dog to our house. We're calling her Maisy and she's already captured the hearts of every single person we've come across. She's a lot smaller than the other two dogs we have, but she's only 5 months old, so time will tell if we become an exclusively big dog house.

Here she is with some high-octane charm. (Her leg is shaved because she was just spayed and they had to use anesthesia)

Here she is with some high-octane charm. (Her leg is shaved because she was just spayed and they had to use anesthesia)

Now you might ask yourself, and maybe rightly so, why we'd try to add another dog when we've got our hands full already. Besides the obviously "look at that face" answer, I think I have another one.

Melody doesn't run away anymore. Maddy doesn't hide wherever she can when the winds pick up and a storm starts coming. By just loving them as best as we can, we're healing them, even just a little. It's obvious to say, but I know they're doing the same for us.

And when you have that, it's hard not to want more of it.

Not Just New

It is too easy of a reduction to simply label this the new year, to think about it for a moment and then dismiss it until the next one rolls around. It's a little hokey to set a resolution, I suppose, but I still do it every year. 

I've had some crazy ones in the past. I wrote five feature length films in a year. I wrote 52 short films in a year. I "taught myself" how to write comics by writing a few of them. It's nice every now and then to think about how far you've come, even if you can still see the starting line if you squint a little.

It's important now, though, as the year is new, to look forward at what we can run towards. Again, it's trite, but there's a reason people set resolutions now. It's an easy place to set a marker, to say I started this on this day. 

What can you start?

For a good portion of 2016, I tried to write a novel. I even got 12,000 words into one before I ultimately bailed out of it. It's a discouraging feeling to do that much work on something and then shelve it. Since then, I've been adrift, flitting from project to project, never getting more than 1,000 words into anything.

My New Years resolution, for better or worse, is to stick to an idea and see it through until the end. It could be the worst novel ever written, but I'm going to finish it. I need to believe that I can still accomplish these outlandish goals.

I need a finish line I can run towards.

Okay, So What Now?

The last few posts have been about hard truths that I don't think a lot of people wanted to read. Maybe I've been hidden from a few Facebook timelines. Maybe somebody I haven't spoken to in a while just because time drifted us apart is now deliberately not talking to me. Then again, maybe everyone just accepted what I had to say and moved on.

Either way, we need somewhere to go from here. We need hope, and that's not just because of how an election turned out. We need hope because we just simply do. 

The phrase that keeps repeating in my head is "It's time to write." It's why you've seen more blog posts in the last few days than in the last six months. I'm trying out new story ideas in my head. A friend of mine even joined NaNoWriMo, a program that challenges you to write 50,000 words of a novel in just the month of November.

Now is the time, friends, to recommit yourself to the things that most make your heart leap from your chest or beat too fast. Now is the time to be brave and bold.

And for me, it's time to write.

 

Seriously, Just Stop

I hadn't planned to blog again so soon, but for the past few days, I've been on Facebook more than I ever am. This is a weird, historic time that we're in and I'm valuing reading everyone's opinions. There are a lot of messages about hope, and frankly, that's incredible. Let us look forward to the future with the belief that it will be better.

I don't write today because of the hopeful ones. There's another type of post I've seen and it demands I put pen to ink in hopes that I can do something to change it. I feel as if I'm probably shouting into the void (which would arguably be the most fitting slogan for Facebook), but I don't think this is time to sit on the sidelines.

The type of post I'm seeing that makes me absolutely boil is the one that says "I'm tired of being judged for voting Republican." I saw two of them just yesterday and they weren't just Facebook statuses, but full blog posts. The premise is rather simple. The writers of these posts believe that people are silencing them from rejoicing about their Republican vote. They believe, in some way, that there is an oppression happening and that it's unfair.

They voted Republican and they demand that you know that it's not because they're racist, sexist or any other type of -ist or -phobic that's typically being associated with leaning that way right now. I think it's important that we believe them. I think, in a divided time, that we have the obligation to trust them that there was no evil in their hearts when they cast their ballot that day.

But, and yes, there is a big but, that doesn't make me any less upset about their blog posts. There's the whole "I don't agree with what you're saying, but I'll die for your right to say it" thing, but the lovely thing about freedom of speech is that it's not the same thing as freedom from consequence. 

The consequence, here, is that writing about not wanting to be judged, silenced, or oppressed because you voted a certain way puts your privilege like a stamp on your forehead. I read a post, again by a probably incredibly well-meaning young woman, where she argued that both candidates struggled with character so she had to vote on the issues, however you want to define that.

This person could vote for whichever party she wanted because neither party was attacking her. Do you know who didn't get to just put character aside when they cast their ballots that day? Muslim Americans. Latino Americans. The LGBTQ+ community. Immigrants. Potentially even women.

These are not all of the people groups who struggled with this election and struggle even more with the outcome, and I wouldn't argue that everyone person defined by those characteristics even voted against Trump. Some probably voted for him and I think it'd be wonderful to hear why, exactly. 

Again, this is not about who you voted for. And again, this it not an accusation that anyone who voted Republican is any of those -ists or -phobics.

What it is an accusation of, and I pray that you hear this clearly, is of privilege and lack of empathy.

The man these people voted for campaigned specifically on a platform of all of those -ists and -phobics that these people are so quick to distance themselves from. I will accept no argument on this point. There were other issues, sure, that were mentioned, but it doesn't even take a skilled hand at Googling to find examples of racism, sexism, even mocking of the disabled, from the campaign trail.

All of these things had to be ignored in order to vote Republican and that is an action for only someone in a place of privilege. 

I am willing to grant you, again, that you are not racist, sexist, homophobic, or any of those other many things, but you need to own that when you cast your ballot, you didn't just not condemn those things, you didn't just say those things were okay, you agreed that those traits can be active qualities of the leader of our country.

And our leader reflects who we are, for better and for worse.

Now at this point, maybe you're feeling attacked. That was the whole point of your blog posts, right, was that you felt attacked for believing and being what you are? You felt oppressed, silenced, marginalized.

I empathize. I really do. It can't be a good feeling, believing that people don't respect who you voted for, what you voted for, who you are.

Maybe there are a few other groups of people who understand what that's like.